Scully's Burning Heart
by Shipper2013
Summary: After nearly getting her heart ripped out of her chest by a writer's creation come to life, Scully realizes her heart is still in danger- not from the murderer, but from her unexpressed love for Mulder.


Dana Scully had always been a professional. She had relied on facts, evidence, and science, and had never let herself succumb to sentimentality. She had always obeyed the rules and done her job by the book. That is why, when she began to develop romantic feelings for her partner, she pushed them away. Hid them even from herself. She didn't know when it started exactly, because she was determined to un-know the fact that she had fallen in love. The time she finally admitted it to herself was when Mulder had come to rescue her in Antarctica. She had realized that she could be on the other side of the world, buried under snow and infected with an alien virus, and Mulder would still show up to rescue her. With a vial of impossible-to-get vaccine. How did he manage these things? She knew he loved her. His actions were louder than an "I love you" could ever be (although he had said it once). A part of her knew she had already loved him before that time, but the Antarctica incident is when it became undeniable to her conscious mind. And then something else had become undeniable. She was going to sleep with him.

It finally happened after a case involving a writer who had seen in Scully what she had just barely begun to see in herself- her love for her partner. The writer left Scully a milagro, a medallion inscribed with a burning heart. Although it was supposed to be related to the case they were working on, and the author's book, it reminded her of her own heart burning with a passion so intense that it could barely contain it. One morning, during that case, she found herself drawn to a church where she knew there was a print of Batoni's painting, My Divine Heart. She gazed at the painting, contemplating silently how much love a human heart could hold. She was interrupted by the writer, who described her mysteries to her with frightening accuracy. He later said, in front of her and Mulder, that she was in love. He was right.

She was in love. Not with the writer, as he had written in his book, but with Fox Mulder. The man she'd been working with for six years, and who she'd grown to realize was brilliant, passionate, honest, daring. Gorgeous.

After nearly having her heart ripped out of her chest by the writer's murderer, she found herself crying in Mulder's arms, relieved to be still alive. Her heart, however, was still in danger. Not from a murderer, but from unspoken desire. She wanted to stay in his arms forever. She knew that it was time.

When her tears stopped, she looked into his eyes, and he looked back at her, his gaze tender and unfaltering. "I want to stay here tonight," she whispered. He nodded silently and helped her off the floor. They both looked at her blouse covered in blood. "I'll get you a T-shirt," he offered. He went into his bedroom and came out with a shirt for her. She gave a nod and went to the bathroom to change.

In front of the mirror, she splashed cool water on her face and tried to steady herself. She thought about what would happen if she became intimate with Mulder. Would he even want to? She thought he probably would. They had shared many special moments together, moments when she thought they had crossed the line of friendship and gone beyond it. The time when Mulder told her he loved her, while in the hospital after almost drowning while looking for a ship in the Bermuda Triangle. She had rolled her eyes, thinking he was delirious, but later she began to wonder if he hadn't been lucid enough to mean it. The time when they were exploring a haunted house and the ghosts assumed they were a couple. Had Scully even tried to correct them? Afterwards they had exchanged Christmas presents in his apartment, and had laughed together and shared a delightful evening. Then they worked one case where they had to pretend to be a real couple, and they pulled it off no problem. It had felt very natural to feel his arm around her. More than that, it had felt good.

When her breathing returned to normal, she took off her blouse and let it land on the floor. After cleaning herself off, she put on Mulder's T-shirt. A secret smile spread across her lips as she smelled the scent of him in the fabric. She bit her lip as she felt her nipples rise. There was no turning back, she was in. What would it change if they had sex? They were already so close.

Coming out of the bathroom, she saw him on the couch, watching a baseball game. "You ok, Scully?" He asked. "Yeah," she answered and sat down. They looked at each other. She cuddled up to him, burying her face in his neck. He relaxed against her. She stayed that way for a while, vaguely hearing the play-by-play of the baseball game, but only really noticing the muscle in Mulder's shoulder, the smell of aftershave, the delightful feeling of being close to him.

After the ninth inning ended, she was still cuddled up to him. He put an arm around her and kissed her forehead. It felt like lightning struck her. This was a feeling she used to force out of her conscious mind, but now she allowed it. She relished the flashes of pleasure that were fluttering over her body. Her lips parted. She breathed him in. The smell of him was intoxicating.

Mulder must have noticed her breathing change, because he studied her intently, reading her. What he saw was a dreamy-looking Scully, eyes glazed over, chest moving up and down with agitated respiration. He understood. He adjusted his arm around her, pulling her in tighter. He put one hand on her thigh. She couldn't help allowing a smile to appear on her lips. He smiled back. As if pulled by gravity, their faces came together and their lips touched. Cautiously at first, they let their lips explore each other, and then an involuntary moan escaped her. She was melting like an ice cube in boiling water. His tongue circled her lips and entered her mouth. She thought she would explode.

"Mmmmmm," she groaned. She put both hands around his head and kissed him fiercely, abandoning all reservation. They had shared chaste kisses before, but this was new. Her guard was down. She had unlocked the door to her true feelings and was telling him with her mouth and her hands that she wanted him. Their tongues moved together and his free hand travelled up her thigh, then up her back and finally stopped to play with her hair. She moaned with pleasure. He pulled away long enough to look at her face. Eyes closed, mouth open. He lightly kissed her cheek, her jawline, and her neck, leaving a trail of delicious tingles along her skin. Her head tilted backward, allowing him to explore her neck, her collarbone.

"Mulder," she whispered hoarsely. He looked at her expectantly. "C'mon," and she stood up and took his hand. While they walked to his bed, she felt like she was floating above them, watching the scene. It was finally happening. She had a sudden inexplicable urge to giggle. Taking both his hands in hers, she giggled like a giddy school girl, and then her eyes filled with tears.

"I love you," she heard herself say, and then bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. He grinned like a Cheshire cat and said softly, "I love you too, Dana Scully." _Wow_! She felt exhilarated.

She climbed into his bed and he followed. They lay facing each other, arms around each other. Then their lips met again. They kissed deeply, hungrily. Her hand explored his back, his neck, his bicep, then travelled downwards to his hip and butt. His body felt firm and muscular. Her hand wandered nonchalantly downwards and gripped his erection through his pants.

"Ohh," he groaned. His face contorted with pleasure. Her hand explored him for a moment, drawing out more moans. Then he sat up. He grabbed her hands and pulled her up to a sitting position. He pulled the borrowed T-shirt up over her head, exposing a lacy black bra. His eyes on her breasts, he took off his own shirt. He pulled her close to him, letting his lips brush against her neck, and undid the bra. Gently, he caressed each breast, taking the nipple between two fingers. He watched as her head tilted backwards. She felt herself light on fire at his touch. She dropped back down onto the bed, hot and glowing. Her eyes followed his hand as it undid his button and fly. He removed the pants and threw them on the floor. She looked at the bulge in his boxers and bit her lip in anticipation, a coy smile appearing on her lips. He got on top of her and ground his pelvis into hers, his breath hot against her neck. Her body writhed with pleasure and her mouth opened into a silent 'Oh', which turned into a moan that came from deep within her. She moved against him, delighting in the warmth of his body and the feel of his desire.

When she couldn't take it anymore, she grabbed his boxers and pulled them down, then removed her own pants and underwear. For a moment, they gazed into each other's eyes, communicating without words._ I love you I love you I want you_. Then she laid back and closed her eyes, ready. He guided his penis gently into her and moved slowly at first, relishing the moment. She felt dizzy with pleasure, and she didn't try to stifle the sighs that escaped her lips.

Finally, after more than five years of wanting him, she had opened up, allowed herself the pleasure of letting him in. It was wonderful. _Why didn't we do this a long time ago?_ she wondered.

Then she started to move against him, arching her back to take all of him in, groaning with each thrust. Their rhythm sped up, became frantic, bodies moving against each other with hungry need, wanting more, more, more. She felt elated. She thought, _this is what heaven feels like_. The pleasure was almost unbearable, and it kept building and building until finally Scully reached her boiling point and spilled over, like a river just released from a dam. Mulder's face contorted as if in pain, his body tightened, and finally he let out a cry of pleasure, and she felt his own wet climax. They lay together, breathing quickly, sweaty and blissful. The contractions inside her slowed and finally stopped, but she could still feel the orgasm as if it was still going.

He rolled over and lay beside her, stroking her hair. She felt overwhelmed with emotion and knew there were tears forming in her eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked with concern.

"Yes," she answered, "More than alright. Wonderful." "Me too," he said with a smile. He took her hand in his and caressed it with this thumb. She sniffed. "Really, really wonderful," she whispered, and then closed her eyes.


End file.
